All reviewers have their pet peeves. I can’t stand dialogue dumps, where the reader is confronted with a large, indigestible lump of information, obediently parroted by a character which sounds about as convincing as Tony Blair trying to persuade us he doesn’t do god. But the thing above all that makes me twitch and mutter is point of view – and I never cease to be amazed by how many writers can’t grasp it.
I’ve just started my summer hols, so I’m catching up with a pile of review books that would make the Eiffel Tower feel inadequate. But sometimes it feels like every other damn one I read has me clutching my forehead as the writer boomerangs around the characters’ viewpoints – often on the same page (and, in one hideous case, in the same paragraph and three times on one page).
So why the hell does it matter so much? And why don’t editors stamp on slips from a great height?
Firstly, inability to deal with point of view confuses the reader. If you don’t know who’s telling your story, how am I supposed to keep up with you? One minute you’re in Jane’s head, the next Joe’s. Here’s a very bad for instance, written by me:
Jane knew she had to be tough and not to show the bastard how much he’d got to her. So she stared straight ahead. Joe grinned, realising that finally he’d got a rise from the ice maiden. He ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying feeling her flinch. At that moment she hated him more than anyone in the world and knew she’d do anything to be rid of him.
The second problem with bouncing point of view, especially when there are a number of characters milling around, is that you can never get close enough to any of them. The book that made me want to blog about the issue was a UK police procedural with about a dozen officers featured – and almost that many points of view. Admittedly it was a debut novel (one that read like a first draft, at that – even though it was from a usually fairly reliable small publisher). But even big name writers don’t seem to be able to grasp the issue.
Locking a book into one point of view means you’re with the protagonist every step of the way, be it out on the job, having a shower or eating breakfast. Spreading it around – and done properly in defined sections or chapters – can cross-cut between characters and therefore provide different intensities and experiences.
Reviewers’ Law no. 12: Never believe a writer who claims they’re doing omniscient point of view, just like Charles Dickens did. Most of them wouldn’t know what it is, even if it jumped up and bit them on the arse.
